The Mischief of Elflings
by Dakoyone
Summary: When Fate comes calling earlier than expected, an unexpected ally swoops in to the rescue. It's all fun and games until the mirror catches your gaze.


_A/N: It started out innocently enough, I swear. At first I thought that young Mahariel and young Tamlen could easily be young Nala and young Simba from Disney's "The Lion King", and the story itself was supposed to end along with the fun dialogue. Then it, ah...matured. Hah. Hah. Heh…_

_Disclaimer: Dragon Age is the property of Bioware, and I'm so excited for Inquisition. *squee*...just throwing that out there. Notable dialogue comes from Disney's "The Lion King", which randomly decided to plop itself in my lap as the source of inspiration for this little piece._

The Mischief of Elflings

Tamlen slid down the grassy slope in a rush, tripping slightly over the small stones in his path but never falling once. His face beamed with rapture over his newfound discovery, news that he simply had to share with Mahariel immediately. His soft-soled boots barely made a whisper against the dewy damp of the earth as he swooped into the camp, startling several of the early risers as he barreled past them like a ball of restless energy. He vaulted over the sitting logs around _hahren _Paivel's unlit fire and skidded to an ungraceful stop in front of the _aravel _that Lyna shared with Ashalle. The young elfling herself was already up and busy whetting one of her daggers, the steady rhythm of sound a contrast in the otherwise quiet ambiance.

"Again, _da'len_," came a gentle voice from within the landship.

Lyna nodded, "_melava inan enansal-_"

"Hey, Lyna," Tamlen greeted.

"Hi, Tamlen," Lyna smiled brightly. "_ir su araval tu elvaral-_"

Tamlen leaned forward and tugged at her elbow, "Come on, I just found this great place."

Lyna paused in her movements and recitation to frown at her friend, "Tamlen, I'm kind of in the middle of a lesson."

Tamlen met her frown with one of his own, but before he could speak, he was whacked soundly on the head with a rolled up scroll. "And it's time for yours."

"_Mamae!_" Another whack. "_Mamae_, you're messing up my hair."

Lyna snickered, and Tamlen's mother smiled fondly at her son as he raked his fingers through his hair so that not a single strand was out of place. "Well?" A more formidable woman, there never was.

With a huff of annoyance, Tamlen stood straight and muttered quickly, "_lath sulevin lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir melana 'nehn enasal ir sa lethalin_ - ok, ok, can we _go_ now?"

Lyna sighed and began clearing up her area, "So where are we going? It better not be anyplace dumb."

"No, it's really cool," and once again, Tamlen was all excitement and eagerness.

Ashalle, having heard the commotion, stepped out of the _aravel_ to join in the conversation, "So where is this really cool place?"

"Oh..." For a second, Tamlen seemed panicked, as if he didn't realize that the pair of them might not be allowed to go - without supervision, at least. "Around the Feravel Plains."

"The plains?" Lyna scowled, "What's so great about the plains?"

Tamlen tried for an easy, charming smile at his mother and Ashalle as he tweaked Lyna's pointed ear and muttered crossly at her, "I'll _show_ you when we _get_ there."

"Oh," Lyna rubbed her ear where he pinched and smiled winningly at her guardian, "Uh, Ashalle, can I go with Tamlen?"

Ashalle gazed fondly at her charge and made a show of considering by tapping a finger against her chin, "Hmm, what do you think, _lethallan_?"

Tamlen's mother threw her a look of annoyance, though neither of the children seemed to notice. "Well..."

"Please!" There was little one could deny to the pouting, puppy-eyed faces of their two darling elflings.

"It's alright with me."

"Yeah!" Tamlen whooped while Lyna clapped excitedly, "Alright!" And they gathered their belongings in preparation for their little adventure.

"As long as Ilen goes with you," came the only condition.

It was enough to stop the two elflings in their tracks, "No! Not _Ilen_!"

.

.

The Sabrae clan had settled along the Coastlands on the northeastern end of Ferelden for the winter. The winds coming in from the Free Marches over the Waking Sea was warmer and more pleasant than the biting chill that was more common inland. Their camp lay nestled near the base of the mountain pass to the east of Highever along the outskirts of Amaranthine. The trek to the Feravel Plains was not a long one, and all of their attempts to lose their hunter guardian along the way was summarily thwarted.

Tamlen scowled deeply as he was dropped by the scruff of his collar back onto the path, Lyna giggling at him all the while.

"Step lively," Ilen told them softly, not at all put off by the _da'len_ and their pranks. He was one of the more seasoned hunters of their clan - taking his turn to join the scouting and hunting parties, though he always did prefer studying with the master smith in the camp. It made him seem taciturn and aloof, which the elflings found creepy. "The sooner we reach the plains, the sooner we can leave."

Ilen was an enemy of fun.

"So where are we really going?" Lyna asked Tamlen, careful to lean in and whisper it to him rather than have Ilen overhear.

Tamlen glanced back at their guide and found him examining a set of tracks some ways behind them. "The dragonbone wastes."

"Wow!"

"Shh!" Tamlen scolded in a harsh whisper, flicking her delicate ear with his fingers again. "Ilen!"

"Right," Lyna nodded, rubbing at her bruised ear, "so how are we going to ditch ol' sourpuss?"

Tamlen began whispering conspiratorially to Lyna. The whispers of elflings, however, were never beyond the sharp hearing of skilled elven hunters. So as Ilen trailed dutifully behind them and heard his name mentioned more frequently than he was comfortable with, he moved forward so as to discern more of their conversation when a sound from somewhere along his left startled him to a pause.

With a hissed command, his two charges froze in their tracks, their eyes darting around warily as they fell onto their bellies and rolled off the path into the tall grasses. Ilen crouched down near them, as tense as the arrow he had drawn over the bridge of his bow. He peered up over the tops of the swaying grass, sharp eyes flicking about in every direction.

"They come from behind. To the west in the distance, there appears to be an outcropping. Head there, and I will find you later. Are you armed?"

Ilen's voice was sharp and made no room for argument. "I have a small dagger," Tamlen said with a shaky voice, but he felt better off than Lyna, who was trembling all over.

"Make haste and be silent about it. _Mythal_ guide you, _da'len_."

"And you, Ilen."

The elflings dashed away, making sure to keep low in the grass, and Lyna stole a glance behind her, in time to see Ilen fit an arrow between his teeth and nock another in the curve of his bow. "Lyna!" Tamlen hissed, and she turned, eyes widening when she saw just how far ahead he was.

"Wait, Tamlen!"

"Hurry up then. We're almost there!"

Just then Lyna slipped on a loose stone, and she heard more than felt something pop before a rush of pain filled all of her senses. She didn't scream, however. She couldn't risk it. Instead she bit at her lower lip until she tasted blood, even as Tamlen skidded to a pause before running back to help her.

"Creators, Lyna, you are so clumsy!" he hissed, sounded more worried than angry. The pain lancing up Lyna's leg kept her from responding. Tamlen half-dragged, half-carried his friend a little further before they reached their destination and ducked behind the eroded part of a small hill. Both elflings leaned back, lungs heaving as they gulped down much needed air.

Lyna was crying, not loud sobs but stifled sniffled punctuated by tiny whimpers. Tamlen looked over and saw that her ankle was already beginning to swell, and Lyna gave a pained gasp as he touched it lightly. He tried his hardest not to show signs of distress, but a part of him wished to cry along with her.

A low growl sounded from somewhere above and behind them.

Even before they could consider struggling to their feet to keep running, an arrow had embedded itself in the darkspawn's eye from behind, and the vile creature, pushed by the momentum, fell forward and lay in a dead heap beside them. Tamlen wasted no time, drawing Lyna's arms around his neck and hitching her up onto his back, resolutely carrying her forward as quickly as he could manage. The earth rose before them in a steady incline, but he pressed on. He did not see the sudden drop until it was too late, and he could not block out Lyna's shrieks as they both tumbled down...and down.

.

.

Lyna awoke with a throbbing headache - and a throbbing ankle, and a general soreness everywhere else. She managed to lift her head slowly, propping an elbow on the dirt beneath her as she tried to take in her surroundings. Walls of rock surrounded them, giving her the impression of some kind of gorge, and there were bones, lots of bones, scattered all over. There were the nearly shattered skeletons of wild beasts, both small and large. She recognized halla and wolf skulls and even some bones that were more humanoid in structure. Fear clutched at her heart, but she continued to stare, her eyes rising higher and higher until they found the frightful displays of the skeletons belonging to large beasts with elongated neck and spine, enormous rib bones, and..._wings_.

_Dragons._

"Tamlen?" Lyna called in a small voice. Her eyes darted this way and that, searching for her friend. "Tamlen!"

Picking herself gingerly until she was sitting upright with her injured leg stretched out before her, she looked around frantically until she found him standing some distance away.

He was facing a mirror.

It was a strange mirror that bore no reflection on its flawless surface. The edges of the piece was framed with an artful spread of vines that looked to have been carved out of the best ironbark.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lyna felt her breath hitch. Tamlen's voice sounded so strange, so disconnected, and it was disturbing to see him just standing there with little reaction to anything around him. "I wonder what the writing says."

"Tamlen?" her own voice now carried an urgent tone, "Tamlen, please don't go near it. It scares me."

"Odd that it isn't broken like everything else." It was like he hadn't even heard her. He took a step forward, and Lyna felt her pulse quicken. "Hey...I think something moved inside the mirror."

Lyna reached around and found an old bone that looked long enough to act as a staff. She dug the end into the ground and bit her already bruised lip hard as she struggled to stand. "Get away from there, Tamlen!"

"Hold on," Tamlen snapped impatiently, "I just want to know what it is. Don't you see it?" He gasped and reached a hand forward, "There it is again!"

Lyna managed to get her good leg under her, but even just hopping on one foot brought pain shooting up her ankle, and soon she was on her hands and knees again, muffling a cry against her arms as her body shook all over.

"Can you feel that?" he asked, his voice taking on an eerie tone, "I think it knows we're here. I think I need to take...a closer..."

Something large dropped down suddenly from the sky, sending violent tremors through the earth. Leathery wings flapped once, knocking Tamlen off his feet and sending him flying back against a stone wall with a gust of wind. A bright flash pierced their eyes, and Lyna squinted against the harsh light. After a moment she peeked out warily from between the fingers she had thrown before her face and blinked.

A beautiful Chasind woman dressed in brilliantly deep red leathers stood with her back facing the mirror. She was tall with grey strands scattered throughout her dark hair giving her a wise and regal appearance. Her amber eyes were piercing, and as she looked down at the two elflings before her, Lyna felt uncomfortably exposed beneath her gaze and under the unmistakable current of power she could feel radiating from the woman's aura. She was dangerous, that was certain.

"Curious," the woman said, her voice deep and sultry, "how do two young elflings come upon this wasteland, where dragons go to die?"

Tamlen still seemed detached from himself as he lay there, his eyes open and blank, simply staring at the dimming sky. "We," Lyna began hesitantly, "that is - I'm sorry, my lady, it was an accident."

"An accident?" the woman's eyebrows rose, and she suddenly threw her head back and laughed. Lyna felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end at the sound. The woman turned to face the mirror, raising a single gauntleted arm to brush her fingers against the smooth surface reverently. "Is it fate," she mused, "or chance?"

A whisper of feather wings brushed through the air, and Lyna gasped as a snowy white owl landed, perching itself gracefully on a skull of what once was a large animal. "Ah," the Chasind grinned, but it was not a pleasant grin, "Marethari. Here to retrieve your lost charges?"

With a flash of light that was not dissimilar to that which came with the appearance of the human shone over the owl, and the bird disappeared only to be replaced with the Sabrae clan's Keeper herself. "_andaran atish'an,asha'belannar_." The Keeper turned to Lyna, "_da'len_."

"Keeper," Lyna sobbed with relief, tears suddenly falling unchecked down her grimy cheeks as all the worry, stress, and fear drained out of her spirit. Marethari frowned at the young one's injury, an expression that only deepened as she took in Tamlen's prone form.

Before she could ask, however, the _asha'belannar _was already speaking, "Enthralled by the mirror, no doubt. I could heal them, yes, but at a price."

Marethari did not hesitate. She would never condemn two of her own _da'len _to suffer any curse. The _asha'belannar _chuckled, as if she were able to read the Keeper's thoughts, "Let's not be hasty, my friend."

The Keeper clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding audibly, "Name your terms."

The Chasind spun around with wild, theatrical arm gestures and approached Lyna with a slight sway in her hips. Amber irises flashed with fire as she caught and held her own terrified gaze. She felt a relentless tugging in her mind and a gentle tickle on her injury, both sensations so horribly at odds at each other that it left a lingering tingle that somehow stung and soothed all at once. "There is a great destiny before this child. Whatever your notions concerning protecting your clan, you must let her fate run its course."

Lyna glanced fearfully at her Keeper, but the despite the reassuring smile she received in return, she knew Marethari was troubled. The woman turned again and made her way over to Tamlen. She stood over him with a hand on her hip and the other tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Curious," she said simply. "For this child, I will only demand one thing. Your legends speak of an old ritual, the ceremony for the Waking Sleep. In time there will be a token of mine that will be presented to you. You may choose a mage of yours to take this token up the Mount and recite the rite there."

"May I ask the reason?" Marethari inquired formally.

There was a gleam in the woman's eye, and her sneer was an evil thing to behold, "Survival."

A lone crow cawed somewhere close by.

"It will be done."

The _asha'belannar_ inclined her head before raising her hands to hover over Tamlen. A blue glow engulfed them from palm to fingertip, and Lyna could only watch in awe at the amount of power she wielded. It was unlike any magic she had ever seen the Keepers practice, beautiful and terrible in its foreign nature. Lyna watched as a dark, somewhat viscous essence appeared to peel itself off from just under Tamlen's skin, and only now did she notice how grey his color had turned as he slowly returned to a more healthy tone. Eventually his eyes slid closed, and he appeared as if in a deep sleep.

"Perhaps it will be best for them to forget."

Lyna only had a second to blink in surprise before a sudden, heavy weight of fatigue fell over her, and she knew no more.

.

.

_Some years later..._

Flemeth hummed as she considered the four standing before her. Lyna, despite her outwardly calm appearance, felt anxious as if there was something strange, familiar, and wrong in this first meeting with the Witch of the Wilds, the revered _asha'belannar_ of the People.

"Much as I expected."

Flemeth's gaze seemed to linger on her a breath longer than the others, and the old pale golden eyes seemed to twinkle in amusement...or perhaps it was just her imagining things.

The rest of the encounter passed through her mind like a hazy dream. She remembered speaking but could not recall what was said. There was a deep ache in her chest, a response to the void in her head, a feeling familiar to the chill she felt when she and Tamlen found that cursed mirror in the caves.

Later as Morrigan led their small group away from her mother's hut and back towards Ostagar, Lyna couldn't help but turn back to see if the old woman was still there. The fiery brilliance within a pair of golden eyes that met her gaze nearly caused her to trip over her own two feet, and she spun back around hastily to catch up with the rest of her party.

Ahead of them Morrigan shifted into the form of a crow, and as she took flight to guide them from above, her loud caw echoed in the air around them.

End


End file.
